Sunshine Therapy
by KMA2106
Summary: Lying on the sand usually made it better, but today was the exception. Notethe story is complete, but for some reason the word end cut off at The end.


Sunshine Therapy

Author: KMA2106

Rating: Okay for anybody

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Files and I'm not making any money

off this.

Okay to archive anywhere

Summary: Lying on the sand usually made it better, but today was the exception

Author's note: This is just a oneshot vignette to see if I can actually do this.

I want to thank my best friend Laci for giving it her stamp of approval.

Lying on the sand made it better. Consciously foregoing sun protection and deliberately flirting with skin cancer (feeling herself brave for doing so, although her inner voice told her she was being stupid), Scully let the heat bake into her bones. If she lay there long enough, she thought, she might be able to forget the way Mulder had changed.

The emotion hidden deep within her was one she refused to name. If she ignored it, it did not exist. This was on old technique, one perfected as a child when the more unpleasant aspects of the world had forced themselves upon her. Anything she did not acknowledge had no power to hurt her. At least that was what she told herself.

Therefore, ignoring, staring out over the waves, Scully eschewed thought. Blanking her mind might lead to a solution in much the same way some people got their best ideas while washing their hair or showering. But was there a solution? Shooting Diana was out of the question (unfortunate, the whisper in her mind insisted, unfortunate) and telling Mulder off would bring little satisfaction. He would simply stand there, let her have her say, and then deny her accusations.

Besides, what could the accusations be? That he had led her on? Untrue. That he had toyed with her feelings? Perhaps, he had, but not deliberately. Mulder was not a cruel man. While it was almost inconceivable that Mulder did not realize she cared for him deeply, her past experiences with men told her they were often oblivious to the obvious. Therefore, it was entirely possible he had no inkling of the depth of her feeling.

It was not even an option to go to her partner of five years and tell him she loved him. If he did not return that feeling, their partnership would be destroyed. The comfortable relationship they had enjoyed for so long would give way to awkward and long silences. Yet how could they have shared so much and not reach for one another? That was the puzzlement.

She flipped herself over, almost reached for the sunscreen, and thought, what the hell. After the year she had just lived through, melanoma seemed anticlimactic.

Inwardly, she recognized the symptoms of depression. Was it any wonder? The real miracle was not that she was still alive (although that was a miracle, she could not deny) but that she had not taken her own life. A lesser person would have ended it all long ago, she told herself righteously, and although she still wasn't certain whether to credit Mulder or prayer for the remission of her cancer, she was more inclined to believe in Mulder. After all, she had never turned her back on him.

Growing uncomfortable with the line her thinking was taking, Scully sat up. She brushed off the sand as best she could, knowing she would track it into the house and nobody would mind. At least she still had family who loved her.

Lying on the sand usually made it better, but today was the exception. The sunshine was not getting through, and her thoughts were still a jumble of darkness and confusion, but through the anger one thing was clear. Mulder owed her loyalty, and she felt she had been betrayed. He would disagree. They had to talk it out. Perhaps there would be shouting, and undoubtedly there would be hurt feelings, but it had to be faced.

They owed each other. She knew she had to listen, as well, and not let that unnamed emotion carry her away on a tidal wave when he began to make his case. Their minds had to meet. They had done so before and there was no reason to think they could not do so again, now, when it was vital.

Scully took one last look out over the waves and went inside to pack. It was time to go home.

The 


End file.
